


SVS-16: Hell Hath No Fury

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance, Series: The Sentinel Slash Virtual Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When strange crimes are committed in Cascade, Jim and Blair are not at all prepared for what they find. Warning...rape of a minor character.<br/>This story is a sequel to SVS-15: Carefully Taught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SVS-16: Hell Hath No Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Episodes of SVS may contain depictions of consensual m/m sex. These depictions may or may not be accompanied by specific mention of items necessary for safe and healthy intercourse. It is the intention of FiveSenses, Inc. and all SVS authors that, even when such items are not explicitly mentioned, their use is to be assumed as a matter of course. All of us at FiveSenses, Inc. are aware of the risks of unprotected sex in today's world and strongly advocate the practice of safe sex, including the use of condoms and other protective devices.

## SVS-16: Hell Hath No Fury

by Carlito

Author's webpage: <http://www.squidge.org/5Senses/>

Author's disclaimer: This story is an episode of The Sentinel Slash Virtual Season (SVS), produced by FiveSenses, Inc. SVS is based on characters and concepts developed by, and belonging to, Pet Fly Productions. This story is intended for private, personal enjoyment only. No money is being made, or will be allowed to be made, by the author of this story or by FiveSenses, Inc. from the writing and distribution of this story. Any original characters introduced in an SVS episode belongs to the episode author and to FiveSense, Inc. and should not be used without their permission.

* * *

Author's e-mail address: S.Chiaramonte@village.uunet.be 

Author's webpage: <http://homepages.go.com/~sylviainc/The_Sentinel.htm>

* * *

Hell Hath No Fury  
by Carlito

* * *

Somewhere in another country, far from Cascade.... 

The man was with his friends, standing in front of the market, cigarette smoke creating a gray haze around the group as they talked. A lovely young woman, her work day over, stepped from the store. 

"Hey, chica, what's up?" One man, clearly the leader, stepped away from his group of friends and came closer. 

"Come on, Carlo, I already told you to leave me alone," said the woman, taking a step back. 

"This is your chance, baby." 

"I'm not interested." 

"Oh, I see. You're too good for me, huh?" said Carlo Escobar, grabbing her arm. 

"Get away from me! You're hurting me," she said, trying to break free. 

Finally, Escobar released his captive and returned to his friends. "Bitch!" he snorted. 

She walked fast, hoping that Carlo would not follow her. 

The woman finally arrived in a deserted area and turned a corner onto the dark street leading to her apartment. She slowed down and tried to calm her breathing... until she heard the sound of screeching brakes behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Carlo's car, engine roaring, sat at the entry of the street. 

She started to run but the car was faster. 

The dark sedan passed her, then pulled a U-turn in front of her. She skidded to a halt; her head twisting right, then left, searching for an avenue of escape. 

She stepped back but a door was opening and before she could take off, Carlo was out and beside her, grabbing her arms, a wicked smile on his face. The woman tried again to break free but he was too strong. She tried to kick him in the balls but Carlo was a champion in Capuera and in one swift move had her face down on the hood of the car. He grabbed a handful of dark hair, yanked back, then without warning, slammed her head against the metal. 

The woman tried to scream, but Carlo clamped his left hand over her mouth, while with his right hand, he fumbled under her dress, gripped her silk panties, and ripped them from her body. She was helpless, trapped under Carlo's body, unable to move as she heard the sound of his zipper.... 

"Yeah! Do it, man," yelled one of his friends. 

The woman closed her eyes and started to pray, hoping that it would be over soon.... 

She felt hot tears of shame run down her cheeks and let them be. 

Carlo penetrated her in one harsh, brutal thrust, and she bit her bottom lip hard, bringing blood. He was rough and brutal, his body slamming into her again and again as his left hand continued to muffle her cries of pain. His knees rammed her spread thighs, forming dark bruises. 

When Carlo finished, he pulled out from the woman's trembling and hurt body but maintained his hold on her, keeping her plastered against the hood. He jerked a thumb at his friend, Pablo Sanchez, who grinned his thanks as he opened his pants.... 

He took the young woman as roughly as Carlo. 

The last man, Tito Munos, sodomized her, and her blood ran in thin rivulets down her shaking thighs. 

When it was over, Carlo slammed her head against the hood. She fell, unconscious, to the pavement below. The three men climbed into the car and left, their laughter echoing down the deserted street. 

* * *

After thirty minutes of continuous surfing, Jim shut down the TV and threw the remote control onto the coffee table, groaning in frustration. He glanced at Blair, sitting at the table, reading something on his laptop. He was so immersed in whatever was on the screen that he hadn't heard Jim's groan. Or at least, so he pretended. Jim stood, went to the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. He drank half, put it down on the kitchen counter, then walked around the island so that he was standing a few feet from his lover, hands resting on his hips. 

Blair was wearing a white T-shirt... Jim's T-shirt, and a light gray pair of sweat pants... Jim's sweat pants. His hair was tied in a pony tail, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He looked good enough to eat. 

"Sandburg?" 

"Um?" Blair answered brightly, not lifting his eyes from his computer. 

"Whatcha doing?" asked Jim in an husky voice. 

"Reading." 

"Reading what?" 

"A recipe." 

"What kind of recipe?" 

"Roasted tofu with tagliatelle and spinach sauce." 

Jim made a face and approached his lover. He slid his arms around Blair's shoulders and rained small butterfly kisses on one tantalizing ear. 

Groaning, Blair tried to disentangle from Jim's grip. 

"Jim, man, I'm busy." 

The sentinel took his guide's earlobe between his lips and started to suck gently, then nibble and finally bestow small bites. 

This time, Blair's half-hearted protest was mumbled out between clenched teeth. 

"Jim, oh, man, pleeease. I'm... busy." 

"Yoealysowbuwy," mumbled Jim, tongue deep in his lover's ear. 

"Uh?" asked Blair, sucking in a harsh breath. 

Jim found his way out of the depths of his guide's ear and repeated, more clearly this time. "You're really so busy?" 

"Oh. Um. Well..." teased Blair, lying back against Jim's broad chest. 

Jim didn't say anything as he attacked Blair's neck, sucking hard, leaving his mark on his lover's skin. 

"Jim, I really need to finish... um, oh, I need to read, you know. Or we don't... um, er eat... tonight," Blair gasped out as he tried to sit straight and tried harder to ignore his growing erection. 

"Want you," whispered Jim, before returning to suck on Blair's neck. 

"Aw, Jim, c'mon, lemme finish, then I'll be all yours, little buddy." 

Jim straightened and watched in amusement as his partner pushed his glasses back on his nose and tried to resume his reading, his rock-hard erection giving him cause for rethinking his need for the recipe. 

Jim had sudden visions of plastering Blair to the table... something they'd already done a few times before.... 

His grin widening, he pushed the computer's button, shutting it off. 

"HEY! Why did you do that?" exclaimed Blair, feigning anger as he stood to face Jim. 

"You bookmarked it, didn't you?" asked Jim, smiling devilishly. 

Blair shook his head in amazement. "Of course I did. But, still, I'm gonna make you pay for that," warned Blair, grinning. 

"I hope so," said Jim, before running towards the stairs. 

Blair, finally entering into the spirit of things, followed close on Jim's heels. When they reached the top of the stairs Jim turned, caught the flying missile that was Blair and tossed him easily to the bed, then threw himself on top of the laughing man. 

Jim started to take Blair's face between his hands, but Blair was fast and quickly captured both wrists. In a maneuver that surprised the sentinel, Blair flipped their bodies over, straddled the older man and pushed Jim's arms above his head. Smiling in victory, he took control as he bent to kiss him. 

Laughing, Jim turned his head away, so Blair simply targeted Jim's neck. He licked his way from his lover's collarbone to his ear, grinning as Jim shivered in pleasure. Sucking on Jim's skin, alternating the nibbles with slightly harder bites, then blowing softy and kissing the reddened skin, he soon had a mass of Jimgoo beneath him. 

Blair took Jim's earlobe between his teeth and bit gently. Then, he reached for Jim's mouth and kissed him passionately. He sucked his lover's lips, then licked Jim's upper lip from one corner of his mouth to the other. Jim's lips parted and Blair, recipe forgotten, plunged his tongue inside, thrusting rhythmically. 

Blair tasted every bit of Jim's mouth. He licked his teeth, palate, tonsils, then played with his lover's silky tongue as their tongues met, danced, and fought until they were out of breath. 

They broke apart, but only for a moment as Jim immediately lifted his head and captured Blair's lips again. 

They moaned into each other's mouths as Blair slid his fingers beneath Jim's T-shirt. He caressed his lover's soft skin and let his fingers trail up, reaching Jim's already erect nipples. Somehow, the shirt ended up on the floor as Blair captured the begging nub, sucking hungrily. 

Jim arched his back and yanked his guide's T-shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor next to his. 

Blair continued to roll his tongue over the sensitive nub as he caressed his lover's belly, than slid a finger into the waistband of the older man's sweat pants. Jim's fingers wound their way into Blair's hair and he pulled him up for another kiss. 

"Want you," he hissed. 

Straightening, Blair began to pull Jim's pants down his legs, whistling as he realized that Jim wore no underwear. 

"Ooooh, you're going commando," he said appreciatively. Grabbing the lube, he started to prepare his partner. When he was finished, he put more lube on his cock and leaned over Jim. The sentinel lifted his knees up and let his fingers trail along his guide's neck, shoulders and chest. 

Blair positioned himself against his lover's opening and pressed gently, nudging the tight ring a few times. When the head of Blair's penis slid inside of him, Jim closed his eyes and grabbed his lover by the shoulders. He pulled Blair closer to him, wanting more. 

Blair closed his left hand around Jim's cock and pumped it while sliding slowly in. When he was completely inside of Jim, he waited for his lover to relax, concentrating on his breathing to keep from coming. Finally, Jim opened his eyes and looked into Blair's. 

Blair slipped out of Jim almost entirely, then pushed back in. Jim grabbed his guide by the shoulders again and thrust upward, impaling himself on the other man's penis. Blair lost the little self control he still had and began thrusting harder and harder, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with his pumpings of Jim's penis. 

The passion led them to the point of no return and they fell over the edge together, moaning each other's names. 

* * *

The young woman opened her eyes slowly... everything a blur, her body on fire, warm streaks of blood still crawling down her legs. 

She tried to stand up but failed. 

She cursed, tried, failed, tried, failed... kept trying until she was able to rise to her hands and knees. Crawling laboriously to the sidewalk, she helped herself by grabbing a street lamp and finally managed to haul herself upright. 

Her apartment was close, but it took her several long, sweat drenched-minutes to reach her building. With trembling fingers, she took her keys from her pocket and opened the door. 

Once inside, she managed to reach the bathroom, rip off her clothes and climb into the shower. She scrubbed herself raw, then slid down and wedged herself into the corner, her hot tears mingling with the spray. 

When she ran out of hot water, she stepped out, turned off the shower and examined herself carefully. She was bruised but at least the bleeding had stopped. She wrapped herself in a robe, gathered her torn and blood-covered clothes and went into the living room. 

In spite of the warm evening, she started a fire, and when it burned bright, she tossed the clothing on top of the logs. 

The young woman went back into the bathroom, shook out two aspirins and one sleeping pill, swallowed them, gulped down some water, then headed to the kitchen. 

Grabbing a bottle of wine, she headed to her bedroom. 

She drank almost the entire bottle before she was finally able to lie down and close her eyes without seeing Carlos and the others.... 

* * *

Birds singing and bright sunlight slowly woke the woman. 

Pain lanced throughout her body and an agonized scream was torn from her. Tears ran down her face and she swiped at them with trembling hands. 

Suddenly someone knocked on her door. 

"Hey, sweetheart! You there?" 

The woman recognized the voice and stood carefully. She took a few deep breaths, then went to open the door. 

"Hey, honey, what took yo...?" Mateo stopped in the middle of his question when he saw the bruises on her face. 

"Hiya, Teo." 

"Oh, honey! What the hell happened?" 

"It's nothing. I'm okay," she said, stepping away from the door to let her friend in. 

The man with the long dark hair entered and she closed the door behind him. He led her to the couch and as they sat, she started to cry. 

"Oh, cara. Tell me. What happened to you?" repeated Mateo Varadez, stroking the woman's hair. 

"I... I... They... Oh, God, Teo," she stammered. 

"Let it go, sweetheart. I'm here for you." 

"They raped me," she finally whispered, clenching Varadez's T-shirt in her fists. The man's breath caught in his throat and he swallowed a few times before speaking, trying to calm his rising anger but failing. 

"What? Shit! Who did it?" 

"It's okay, Teo. I'm okay." 

"No, you're not okay, and no, it's not okay. Did you see their faces?" 

"Oh, yeah." 

"Who was it?" he repeated. 

"It's nobody. Believe me. We can't do anything," she said. 

"Sure we can! I'm gonna kill 'em. They ain't gonna get away with that." 

"No, Teo, please," she sobered. Then she started to cry again. 

Mateo reached a hand inside his jeans pocket and took out a small flask filled with white powder. 

"Here. Take this. You're gonna feel much better." 

"Teo, I already told you I don't do drugs." 

"You need to change your mind, honey. Even if it's only once. You need it right now. It'll make you feel so good." 

The woman looked at the cocaine, then at her friend. She closed her eyes and flashes of last night's events passed in her head. She shuddered, and after a couple of moments looked up into her friend's concerned face. 

"Just once, huh?" 

"Yeah, baby. Just once." 

Mateo opened the flask and poured the powder on his hand. "Now, all you need to do is sniff and enjoy." 

The woman leaned forward.... 

It was the first time... but unfortunately not the last. 

* * *

"See you tomorrow, Jim," said Rafe, leaving the police gym. 

"Yeah, see you," said Henri. 

"Catch you later, guys," answered Jim, lifting free weights from a bench. 

Ten minutes later Blair entered the gym to find Jim still pumping iron, sweaty and looking like a wet dream. 

He sauntered over to his sweat-covered lover and, grinning down at him, said, "Need a spotter, Jim?" 

As Blair asked the question, he shucked his jacket, threw one leg over the bench Jim was lying on, and let one eyebrow rise suggestively. 

Staring up at his partner, Jim licked his lips and mumbled, "Oh, yeah." 

"How many more reps?" 

"Uh, reps? Oh, well, let's say... ten?" 

Blair, still straddling Jim, managed to move up and grinned in satisfaction as Jim's eyes fastened on his crotch. 

"So get to it, man." 

"Ah, God. Um, spotters usually, er, stand _behind_ , you know?" 

"I'm pretty comfortable right here, Jim." 

Understanding _exactly_ what his sexy and mischievous partner was up to, Jim almost whined, "C'mon, Chief. What if someone comes in?" 

"Why, Jim, I thought you knew me better than that," said Blair, leaning over Jim and licking his lover's lips wetly. "I locked the door." 

Chuckling, Jim said, "Now that's what a partner is all about, my man. So? Spot me, baby." 

Blair's laughter was low and husky. "I just love metaphors." 

They both started to laugh, but it quickly turned into moans of pleasure when Blair bent low and captured Jim's mouth in a fiery kiss. Amid Jim's throaty moans, Blair's hand began to massage his lover's cock through his exercise shorts. His hair trailed a soft path over Jim's face as his mouth was suddenly abandoned. 

"No, no..." His hands reached out, but Blair pushed them away as he moved backwards. Poised over Jim's hips, he placed one hand on each hip and slid Jim down the bench until his butt reached the edge. Then with one wicked look back at his surprised partner, he went down on his knees before Jim. 

With hands only slightly shaking, he spread Jim's thighs, then hooked his thumbs inside the elastic waistband of the detective's shorts and slid them down until he could free Jim's cock from the confines of the athletic supporter. With an anticipatory gleam in his eye Blair lowered his head and wrapped his right hand lightly around the base of his sentinel's penis, eliciting a long, drawn-out moan from Jim. He flicked his tongue out and swiped it over the thick head, then with no further warning took Jim's cock deep into his mouth.... 

* * *

The woman watched the three men exit the cafe. She'd been following Carlo Escobar, Pablo Sanchez and Tito Munos for the last month while planning her revenge. Taking a small packet from her pocket, she grabbed some white powder on the tip of her index finger and sniffed it. She did it again, then dropped the empty plastic bag on the dirty street. 

Reaching once again into her pocket, her hand closed around the cold, hard metal of the gun, the long silencer giving her a sense of power. The three men were talking, laughing, trading obscene jokes and smoking as always. 

They finally started to walk away, turning at the corner and enteing an alley. She stepped out of the darkness and followed. Moving silently, staying in the shadows, she moved in close and hid behind a garbage bin. The alley was deserted other than the three men who were now smoking crack, handing each other a small glass pipe. Stepping from behind the bin to stand in the middle of the alley, legs parted, gun drawn, she yelled, "Hey, you! Fucking bastards!" 

None of the men was armed and she was too far for them to reach her before she could fire. Besides, they were too far gone to react. 

"What the hell..." started Carlo. 

"Shut the fuck up!" she yelled. "You're gonna pay for what you did to me." 

The two other men were too stunned to say a word, unable to do more than stare, mouths gaping and wondering if they were hallucinating. 

"You ain't gonna do it, bitch," yelled Carlo, taking a step forward. 

"Stop right there! Don't fucking come closer!" shouted the woman, placing her other hand on the gun, holding it firmly with both hands. 

"C'mon, don't tell me you didn't enjoy it?" asked Carlo, taking another step forward. 

"I warned you. Stay where you are!" 

The man took a third -- and last -- step forward. 

He never heard the gunshot. Carlo Escobar was dead before his body hit the ground. 

Sanchez and Munos started to move but the woman fired and didn't miss her targets. She hit Tito first, in the knee, then Pablo, in the back. They both fell to the ground, screaming in pain. 

Approaching Tito, she looked directly into his eyes. The man was crying and trembling as he looked up at her, pleading, "Please. Don't shoot me. I'm sorry." 

"Adios," she said, then fired. 

She turned her head to see Pablo, who was trying desperately to crawl away, but she had hit him in the back and he was paralyzed. 

He looked at her with hatred in his eyes. "You, fucking bitch! You're gonna pay for that!" 

"Nuh, huh. *You're* gonna pay for what you did to me. And you're gonna pay for it with your life." 

With those words, she smiled demonically and came closer. Kneeling beside him, she grabbed his head. "Open your mouth!" 

"Fuck you!" 

"You already did that. Now, open your fucking mouth!" she ordered, pressing the gun barrel against Pablo's lips. 

The pressure was too strong and the man finally gave up, opening his jaw. She slid the barrel into Sanchez's mouth, the metal sliding against his tongue. 

"Say bye bye," she said, grinning. Then she fired. 

She wiped the muzzle with the dead man's shirt, then stood, turned around, and put the gun back in her pocket. Laughing joylessly, she left the alley, never seeing the little boy standing in a dark corner of the street. 

* * *

"Man, I don't think I'll ever be able to come here again without getting instantly hard." 

Blair was sprawled over his lover's body, both men completely satisfied. Jim smiled and caressed the younger man's hair. "Hey, whose idea was this anyway?" 

"Yours, man. Entirely yours." 

"Mine? Yeah, sure, Sandburg. Who offered to _spot_ for me?" 

"Hey! Who asked me to pick him up 'cause his truck was in the garage for its quarterly spit and polish?" 

"Since when does 'Chief, can you pick me up at the gym?' translate to 'jump my bones'?" 

"Well, duh! Like... since always, man," said Blair, laughing. 

"If that's the case, Chief, then you can pick me up every day." 

* * *

Simon Banks looked at his bag, tent and bedroll, then checked for his cell phone, pager and cigars. Satisfied, he pulled on his coat, grabbed his keys and slung his bag over his shoulder. Picking up his bedroll and tent, he walked out his front door, locking it behind him. 

He popped open the trunk of his car, dumped everything inside and closed it, then climbed into the driver's seat. The engine came to life with a fine-tuned rumble, and Simon backed out of his driveway and headed for 852 Prospect, Jim, Blair and their fishing trip. 

* * *

"How much?" asked the woman. 

"Four hundred," said the driver. 

"What? To travel in the back of a truck!" 

"Hey, that's the price of freedom, chica. Now, if you don't wanna come, get out of the way. You ain't the only one, princess." 

"Okay, okay, here's your fucking money," she said angrily, tossing the bills in the man's face. Ignoring her anger, she climbed into the back with all the other people who believed that the streets of America were paved in gold. 

One hour and thirty illegal immigrants later, the truck was full. People were pressed together like sardines, the smell was excruciating and the woman was certain she was suffocating. It would be a long, miserable journey to the United States of America, gold streets and... freedom. 

* * *

Jim woke up to the feel of something hot and wet tickling his belly and trying to find its way into his navel. He reached out a heavy, sleepy hand and tried to push the intruder away... only to encounter a wild bush of soft curls. 

"Hey! Look who's up," Blair said as he nibbled Jim's hipbone. 

"Your fault, Chief." 

Grinning against Jim's skin, Blair teased, "I wasn't talking about _you_." Then he traced the length of the detective's erection with his fingertip. 

Jim arched under the caress and moaned. 

"That's what I said. Your fault. Now, c'mere and kiss me." 

Blair suckled his way up Jim's body very slowly, tasting every inch of exposed skin. 

"C'mon, Chief," complained Jim impatiently. 

"I'm on my way, man. I'm on my way." 

When Blair reached Jim's mouth, he brushed his lips lightly. 

"Morning." 

"Morning," answered Jim, closing his arms around his partner's back. 

They started to kiss, slowly at first, lips brushing feather-light, but finally Jim's lips parted to welcome his partner. He spread his legs wider, allowing Sandburg to settle comfortably in between and coincidentally bringing their morning erections together. Blair started to thrust slowly, wanting the moment to last. It was Saturday and they had the whole day to enjoy each other.... 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. 

"Iwgnowtaw," mumbled Blair around Jim's nipple. 

"What?" 

"Ignore that," repeated the young man, thrusting even faster. 

"Chief, it's Simon!" 

"He... can... wait," panted Blair. 

The knocking was now insistent and a very irritated Banks could be heard even by Blair. 

"Ellison! Sandburg! I know you're in there! Jim, open the damn door!" 

"Chief! Blair! C'mon, babe. I gotta answer the door," said Jim, trying to push Blair gently away from him. 

"Mmmm!" protested Sandburg, gripping his lover tightly. 

"Fish," said Jim, suddenly remembering why his captain was there. 

"What?" asked Blair bewildered. 

"The fishing trip." 

"Shit." 

"Blair, c'mon." 

Blair rolled over on his back and covered his face with both hands. "Gun's in the second drawer. Make it quick. We'll take care of the body later." 

Jim burst into laughter. 

"Simon's huge, Chief. We could never find a large enough burial spot. Besides... we like him." 

He grabbed his robe, put it on, and went down the stairs. 

"ELLISON! SANDBURG!" yelled Simon. 

"I forgot to mention quick _and_ painful and I don't like him anymore!" added Blair, peeking over the railing. 

Jim grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it upwards, not missing his target. 

"Okay. Okay," said Blair, leaning back into the bed and not in the least surprised that his cock had gone back into hibernation. 

Jim, frustrated and willing his own urges to take a slight vacation, took a deep breath and tried to muster a welcoming smile as he swung the front door open. 

"Jeez, Jim. What the hell were you guys doing?" asked Simon, pressing past his friend and entering the loft. 

"Nice to see you, too, Simon," said Jim, closing the door. 

"What, are you still naked? We have to go, Jim. The fish aren't going to stop biting just because we're not there." 

"Uh, Simon... About the fi..." 

Jim's sentence was interrupted by Simon's cell phone ringing. 

"Excuse me, Jim," the older man said, as he took his phone from his pocket. 

"Banks." 

Jim watched his Captain's face change, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He immediately dialed down his sense of hearing, not wanting to invade his friend -- and captain's -- privacy, but he knew something was wrong. 

Finally, Simon hung up and put the cell back in his pocket. "Looks like the fish will be biting for someone else after all. We've got a body and Joel said it's very unusual. Suggests we might need Sandburg's expertise on this one." 

"Gee, Simon, _which_ expertise would that be?" 

Blair's voice floated down from above. "I heard that, Jim." 

"You were supposed to, Sandburg." 

Simon waved his hands in the traditional time-out gesture and in a voice that would clearly carry _upstairs_ , said, "All Joel said was that it was _anthropological_. Apparently, the body was painted with strange markings and left half-naked, and to top it off, the ears and lips were plugged with pieces of wood." 

Jim gave a low whistle. "Give us thirty minutes, Simon." 

"Fine. The alley behind _Los Delicios_ restaurant in thirty. Taggert's put a hold on everything until you and the kid arrive." 

* * *

"Chief, you heard the description of the dead body?" 

"Yeah, the wooden plugs through the ear lobes and lips are a custom of the Botocudo tribe of Brazil. In fact, the tribe's name is derived from the custom. Botoque means 'wooden plug'. But until I actually see what was done to the victim, well, I'm just wasting words." 

"You're about to get your chance, Chief." 

As Jim spoke he rolled down his window and flashed his badge. They were waved on and Jim quickly maneuvered the truck into a place next to Los Delicios. 

The yellow crime scene tape marked their destination, but an unhappy Simon Banks puffing angrily on his cigar would have been a dead giveaway. 

"Well, Chief, you're on." 

Blair might have given Jim one of his patented *woof-woofs* except he was about to view a corpse... up close and personal. 

* * *

Simon had headed to the station once Jim and Blair had arrived and Jim was kneeling beside the body. 

"Chief, unless I've lost my powers of deductive reasoning, this woman is definitely _not_ a member of the Botocudo tribe in spite of the loincloth." 

Blair had only needed a quick glance at the loincloth-clad, mutilated body to figure out that they weren't dealing with a refugee from Brazil. At Jim's attempt at crime scene levity, he scrunched up his face and took two very obvious steps back as Jim knelt in front of the woman. 

"These wounds on her body are fresh, as are the wounds to her ears and lips." He glanced up at his partner, secretly applauding Blair's efforts to remain at the scene. "Got any ideas about the markings?" 

"Right now, Jim, they're unrecognizable to me. Maybe the killer's signature? Or a code? I sure don't recognize it as any language. You?" 

"Doesn't mean a thing to me, Chief." Jim put on a pair of latex gloves and picked something up next to the victim's left foot. He held the item between his index finger and thumb. "Look at this." 

Taking a deep breath, Blair squatted beside Jim and peered at the object. 

"Glasses? What the hell are her glasses doing next to her foot? You think they fell?" 

"No," Jim answered as he held them closer to his guide. "Look at that... they're still folded, so she wasn't wearing them." 

"Point taken, man," Blair conceded as he stood. 

Jim joined him, put the glasses in an evidence bag, marked it, then gave the bag to a woman from the Forensic team. " Ask Serena to pay particular attention to this," he asked the woman. 

"Certainly, Detective." She took the bag and left them. 

"You think she was dropped there _after_ being killed?" asked Blair. 

"Yep," said Jim, squatting again. He touched the victim's neck to check the wound. "Her jugular's cut. But look at the blood... there's not enough for the murder to have been done here." 

"So, you think he killed her, dressed her with the loincloth, plugged the wood pieces in her ears and lips, then dropped her here?" asked Blair. 

"Yeah, that's about the size of it. I pray he did it in that order and didn't plug her _before_ killing her." 

Jim waved the coroner's men over, letting them know they could have the body. He took Blair's arm and moved him to the side as the gurney was wheeled in. The body bag was set down and the men carefully turned the body. As they did, the small piece of material Jim had referred to as a loincloth fell to the side, revealing a quick glimpse of the victim's rear. Blair had been watching the procedure and now gasped. 

Jim looked down at him, followed his partner's horrified gaze and saw the tattoo. 

He stopped the men, moved quickly and inspected the marking. Then, he shook his head and looked at his guide. "Chief, this isn't new. I think it came with the victim." He stood and moved back to Blair's side. 

"Jim, I think I know this woman. I mean, I... her face, you know? The bruising done by the mutilation, God, Jim, her own mother wouldn't recognize her. But that tattoo..." 

Suddenly, Jim's cell phone rang. Still staring at his partner, concern evident in his pale blue eyes, he tried to remove his gloves and answer the phone but failed. Without thinking, Blair reached inside his lover's leather jacket pocket and slipped the phone out, then answered it. 

"Sandburg." 

"Where's Ellison?" 

Blair held the phone to Jim's ear and said quietly, "It's Simon." 

Still fighting his gloves, he barked into the phone, "Sir?" 

"We have another one. Meet Rafe at 80 Denver Avenue." 

"Same MO?" 

"'Fraid so." 

"Be there in twenty," said Jim. 

The gloves were history and Jim took the phone, flipped it closed and re-pocketed it. 

"We have another one." 

"So I figured." 

"Call Megan from the truck... tell her what you might know about this victim. She can get to work while we check out number two." 

"Yeah." His voice was subdued and Jim was tempted to ask the obvious question. But now was not the time... he would wait. 

* * *

They arrived at 80 Denver Avenue and found it to be an abandoned apartment house. Jim parked and they quickly joined Rafe who was waiting outside for them. 

"Hey, guys." 

"Rafe." 

"Jeez, Jim, this is weird. The guy's a psycho!" said Rafe, grimacing. 

"How was she found?" asked Ellison. 

"He. This time it's a guy, twenty-five or so. Kids were playing with their dog and it ran into the building. They followed and stumbled over the body. The dog probably smelled the blood." 

"They didn't touch anything?" asked Jim. 

"No. Come in and see for yourself," Rafe said as he led the way. 

The man was lying on his side, completely naked. His hands were tied behind his back and it was immediately apparent that he'd been killed by an arrow fired straight into his heart. 

"It's an execution," said Blair. 

"What do you mean?" asked Rafe. 

"Look at the arrow... it's too perfectly placed. The man must have been brought here, forced to undress and kneel... then was shot," answered Blair. 

"You're right, Chief. Point blank. Perfect shot, so to speak." 

"Hey, guys!" called Henri, who was investigating the surroundings of the crime scene. "What the hell is that?" 

They joined Henri and Jim, gloves in place, bent to pick up the object in question... a small jar. 

"Another tribe," he said. "And this one _I_ know. It's the _Iquitos_ from Peru." 

"Exactly," Blair agreed as he inspected the item in Jim's hand. "The Iquitos are known for their preparation of the _chicha_ , a native liquor made by grinding the tubers of the cassava plant in a wooden trough. Then, it's mixed with..." the anthropologist grimaced and didn't finish his explanation. 

"Saliva," said Jim. "Then it's stored in pottery jars." 

"Oh, no. Ellison, you didn't..." said Henri. 

"Jim, c'mon, man. Don't tell me you..." added Blair. 

"Hey, I had to. It's seen as an insult to refuse a gift from a tribe. Chief, I thought that you, better than anyone, should know that." 

"Of course I know it, but shit!" 

"Oh yeah, man, or in this case," Brown grimaced, "tuber shit. Yick." 

"Intelligent, H. Very intelligent response." 

Brown shrugged and gave both men his broad, lopsided grin. Then he turned to Blair. "Sandburg, you never..." 

"NO! No. Thank God, no." 

"Jesus, Chief, with all the weird stuff you eat," mused the sentinel. 

"Jim, it's saliva! Other people's saliva!" 

"Yeah, I know." 

* * *

When they finished checking the second victim, they headed back to the station. On the way, Jim quizzed, "You didn't know this one too, did you, Chief?" 

"No, I don't think so. He didn't look familiar." 

"Good, because I really hate coincidences." 

"So do I, Jim. So do I." 

* * *

Entering the bullpen, they found Megan poring over the crime scene photos. Blair spoke first. 

"Were you able to confirm?" 

Sympathetic sapphire blue eyes gave him his answer. 

"It was Judith?" 

"I'm afraid so, Sandy. Judith Lind, thirty, divorced, no children, no relatives. Address: 12 Reverent Street, Cascade. Worked as a librarian at..." 

"Rainier." 

"Yeah. Sandy, I'm so sorry. How did you know her?" 

"We had classes together several years ago. Then of course, well, she works," he paused, then added, " _worked_ at Rainier. A bunch of us were with her when she got that tattoo. We... um, were drunk. It was a dare. The subject matter of the tattoo was... the real dare." 

With a reassuring hand on Blair's shoulder, Jim asked, "Did anyone report her missing, Connor?" 

"Yeah, her boss. He reported it twenty-four hours ago. He said she was the most reliable person he knew and for her to not call in sick, well, all his alarms went off." 

"What about the glasses?" 

"That's the weird one, Jim. Her boss, Tobias McFee, said she didn't wear glasses. Not even reading glasses." 

Blair's eyes widened. "Shit, Jim, do you think they belonged to the second victim? Or our psycho?" 

"Both good possibilities. Let's go speak with McFee, Chief." At Blair's nod, Jim turned back to Connor. 

"When you get the photos and prints from scene two, you'll work on identifying our newest victim?" 

"You got it, Jim. No worries." 

The team of Ellison-Sandburg headed back out. 

* * *

As the two men entered the Rainier Library, Jim immediately sneezed. 

"Bless you," said Blair. 

"Danx," answered Jim. 

Blair opened his backpack, grabbed some tissues and handed them over to his partner. 

"Danx," repeated Jim, taking the tissues and blowing his nose. 

"Dust?" 

"Uh, huh." 

Grinning, Blair asked, "You want some roots of..." 

"Don't eben ding about id," said Jim, sniffing. 

"Okay. Okay. Just kidding. You know the routine, dial it down, Jim." 

Jim was nodding when an elderly man in a wheelchair, an air of sadness about him, rolled toward them, his hand held out. 

"Blair, I was hoping it would be you and your partner that I'd be talking with." 

Blair took the frail hand in both of his. "Tobias, I'm so sorry about this." He let the hand go and turned to Jim. "Tobias, this is Detective Ellison. He's been assigned to Judith's case." 

Jim rubbed his nose one last time, then took the hand now being held out to him. "Mister McFee. I wish this meeting could be under better circumstances." 

A shiver ran through the elderly man and his eyes closed tightly. 

Blair immediately knelt before the wheelchair. "Are you okay, Tobias? Maybe I can get you something to drink?" 

Tobias shook his head. "She... she was like my daughter, Blair. I don't know if I ever told you, but I... I lost my own daughter long ago in a car accident, and... and Judith was alone and so like Carrie..." He swiped a hand over his eyes, brushing sudden tears away. "When the woman on the phone told me... it was so like all those years ago... so like with Carrie..." his voice broke and the last word ended in a sob. 

"I'm sorry, sir," said Jim, patting McFee's shoulder. 

Lifting his head, controlling his grief, he asked, "How was she killed? The woman on the phone wouldn't tell me. Was it in an accident?" 

Blair glanced at Jim, then back to Tobias. "No, it wasn't an accident, Tobias. She was murdered," he said, standing up. 

"Murdered? But who could have wanted to kill our Judith?" Tobias asked incredulously. 

"We don't know yet, but we're hoping you can help us. Was Judith involved with anyone recently?" 

"Not for months, Blair." 

"Anyone she'd had any problems or arguments with?" 

"Dear Lord, no. Everybody loved Judith." 

Jim took out his wallet and gave the librarian his card. "If you remember something, anything at all, please call." 

"Certainly, Detective." 

"Just one more thing, sir. Did she receive any strange phone calls or did anything unusual happen in the days before her disappearance?" 

"Um, let me think. No. No strange calls. Though she received a call from an old friend she hadn't seen for a few years." 

"Do you, by any chance, know the name of that friend?" asked Blair. 

"No, no, just someone who'd been a student here." 

"Thank you very much, Mister McFee. You've been a great help," said Jim, shaking the old man's hand. 

"Please, Detective, find the one who killed my Judith." 

"We'll find him, sir," said Jim before motioning Blair to follow him. 

Giving McFee's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Blair said, "I'll check in with you later, okay?" 

"Thank you, Blair." 

They left the library and headed back to the truck. As they climbed in, Blair muttered, "I hope we find the bastard responsible." 

"We'll find him, Chief. We'll find him." 

* * *

On the way back to the station, Jim's phone rang once again. Shooting a puzzled glance at Jim, Blair answered. 

"Sandburg." 

"It's Rafe, Blair. We've got a positive ID on the second victim and you're not going to like it. His name's Wesley Keeler. Twenty-eight. And he just received his doctorate, from Rainier, in archaeology." 

"You're kidding me?" 

"I'm afraid not, Sandburg. He was a student, and from what we've learned, he was actually in some of your classes." 

"Shit." 

"You didn't recognize him?" 

"No. How long ago?" 

"Three years." 

"Damn." Blair closed his eyes in resignation, knowing that Jim was listening to _both_ sides of the conversation. 

"His family lives in Vancouver and he was alone here. He was working a dig in Tacoma and visiting his girlfriend on the weekends." 

"His girlfriend? You know her name?" 

"No, we've been unable to identify her." 

"You got his address?" 

"Yeah, 641 Posterity Street." 

"Got it. We'll head over now." 

He clicked off the phone and waited for Jim's response. He didn't have long to wait. 

"Chief, I really don't like coincidences." 

"I know. You got that address?" 

"I got it." 

"Chief, is it me or is Rainier a don't-approach-or-you'll-get-killed area?" asked Jim, making a U-turn and heading to Wesley's apartment. 

"Hardy, ha, ha, ha." 

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jim pulled up in front of 641 Prosperity. The building had originally been a three-story home, but had been turned into a co-op. Wesley Keeler owned what amounted to the second story. 

Jim pushed on the intercom for Wesley's apartment, hoping to find his girlfriend... but when no one answered, he pushed the intercom for the third floor. When there was no answer there, he tried the intercom for the first floor, having just noticed the curtain moving. The mail box tag identified the owner as Miss S. Alvarez. 

"Yes?" a disembodied voice answered. 

"Miss Alvarez? I'm Detective Jim Ellison, from the Cascade PD. I'm with my partner, Blair Sandburg. Can we come in." 

"How can I be sure you're a detective?" 

Jim smiled, took out his badge and waved it in front of the window, then pushed the button. "Here's my badge, ma'am." 

"That could be fake and how do I know that you don't have a gun?" 

"Ma'am, I do have a gun, I'm a police officer. Please, let us in." 

"I'm not sure." 

"Please, ma'am..." started Jim, but with waggling eyebrows, Blair pushed him away. 

"Miss Alvarez, my name's Blair Sandburg, I'm a police consultant. Please, let us in, we'd like to talk to you about Mr. Keeler's disappearance." 

"A police consultant? You are not a police consultant, young man! I can see you from here. You don't look like a police consultant. You look like a hippie boy." 

Blair shook his head in amazement. "I've been told something like that before, ma'am." 

Jim thunked his thumb against the back of Blair's head. Rubbing lightly, Blair mumbled a half-hearted, "Ouch," before turning his attention back to Miss Alvarez. 

"Miss Alvarez, if you don't want to let us in, please, at least talk to us." 

"All right, what do you want to know?" 

"Did you know Wesley Keeler?'" 

"Yes. A good boy. He studies old rocks I believe. He lives on the second floor, but he's away most of the week and only comes back on weekends." 

"What about his girlfriend?" asked Jim. 

"I don't really know her. I've only seen her once." 

"Could you describe her?" 

"Not really. She was wearing a hat, a big woolen coat and a thick scarf because of the cold and the rain." 

"I take it she doesn't live here, then?" asked Jim. 

"No. I think she's a new one." 

"Do you know her name or where she lives?" 

"I told you. I only saw her once and we didn't talk." 

"I understand. Miss Alvarez, do you know where the third floor occupants might be?" 

"They've been on vacation for the last two weeks." 

"Thank you, Miss Alvarez," said Jim. 

"Detective... is Wesley all right?" 

Jim looked at Blair, then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but... Wesley has been murdered." 

"Oh my god. Do you know who killed him?" 

"We're investigating the case, ma'am." 

"Please, Detective, find this guy." 

"We'll find him, Miss Alvarez. Thank you for your help." 

They headed back to the truck. 

* * *

Halfway back to the station, Blair's stomach growled loudly. In apparent sympathy, Jim's answered equally loudly. They glanced at each other, smiled, and -- in perfect synchronization -- checked their watches. It was 7:45 p.m. and they'd not eaten since morning. 

"There's a great grill restaurant somewhere near. What about a nice meal and we call it a day?" asked Jim, patting Blair's thigh. 

"Oh, yeah, man. I think it's safe to say we're both starving." His stomach growled again and laughing, he added, "Well, at least my stomach is hungry." 

"I think we should take our musical stomachs on the road, Chief." 

* * *

Pat's was a nice restaurant specializing in grilled steaks, which suited Jim to the proverbial "T," in this case... a T-bone. 

Inside, they were led to a table near the warm fire and both men were lulled into a sense of quiet calm, providing a brief respite from the horrors of the day. They ordered, talked quietly about anything _but_ work. When the waitress brought them their food, T-bone for Jim and grilled salmon for Blair, both men dug in, blue eyes occasionally meeting and hands briefly touching. 

* * *

Blair sighed and sat back in his chair. His salmon had been delicious and he and Jim were now enjoying an after dinner coffee. The events of the day had temporarily been placed on the back burner but Blair knew that something was churning in Jim's brain. He was also afraid that he had a pretty good idea what exactly was churning. 

"So, you ready to talk about it yet?" 

Jim had been watching the glow of the nearby fire as it played over Blair's hair, and with Sandburg's question, concentrated on the man's face instead. 

"About what, Chief?" 

"Coincidences." 

"You have to admit... two victims, killed in ways that you'd be able to identify _and_ you knew them both. Yeah, I'm worried. Hell of a coincidence, Chief." 

"Jim, you can't say that I actually _knew_ Keeler. And the tie there could be Judith, the two of them, or the library, or Rainier. Most archeology students take anthro classes, but Judith was very involved with archeology. This probably has nothing to do with me and really _is_ a coincidence." 

Jim shrugged and smiled. "Hey, all I said was I hate coincidences." 

Giving Jim his best suspicious look, he said, "Uh-huh." 

"Sandburg, I'm a cop. I have a suspicious nature." 

"What you have is an overprotective nature, and you see Sandburg conspiracies everywhere you look." 

"It's not like I don't have good reason." 

"Hey, I was _not_ in Dallas in '63." 

"Sandburg, you weren't _anywhere_ in '63." 

"See?" 

Shaking his head and signing the credit card receipt, Jim said, "Come on, Mr. Conspiracy, let's go home, and tomorrow we'll attack these murders with a new eye." 

"Sounds good." 

* * *

Something warm and hard was tickling him, pressing suggestively against his buttocks. 

Blair shifted slightly and someone groaned in his ear. Smiling, he shifted _back_ and was rewarded with another groan. 

Lips and teeth... Jim smiling against his neck, then nibbling and kissing. 

"Morning, Chief." 

Blair chuckled and gave another thrust back. 

"You stinker." 

"So do something." 

Jim did. 

His hand smoothed up and down Blair's chest as he nudged Blair's right leg forward. With easy, practiced moves, he rubbed against Blair's butt, punctuating with small pelvic thrusts. He nibbled one ear lobe and whispered, "Make yourself useful... nightstand." 

Blair fumbled, hand shaking as Jim pushed against him. Somehow he managed to pull out the necessary supplies, but that was where his coordination ended. His body was rapidly taking over all thought processes and he just managed to toss everything over his shoulder. 

The tube hit Jim in the forehead, the condom packet landed on the top of the detective's head. 

Laughing, Jim choked out, "A little anxious, are we?" 

"Who... me?" Blair hissed out. 

Jim clamped a hand over Blair's hip as he let his teeth graze over soft skin. "Oh, yeah, you." 

"So fucking do... something already." 

"Your wish." 

Jim prepared himself and Blair and moments later, he was indeed... doing something. 

"Ah, God, yes..." 

"Little Blair, " Jim grunted, "Happy at last." 

"You... schmuck... faster. And more like Little Jimmy." 

* * *

Jim was sprawled half on and half off of Blair's sweaty body, his nose buried in hair. Blair's limbs were still spasming as his fingers found Jim's hand. 

"Now _that_ is what I call a decent wake-up call," he breathed out. 

"Better than the alarm clock, huh?" 

"Oh, yeah. Let's toss the damn thing." 

Grinning, Jim flipped Blair over and settled against him, resting his forehead on Blair's shoulder while waiting for their breathing to come back to normal. After a few minutes he lifted his head and kissed the tip of Blair's nose. 

"Agreed. Too loud anyway. Although... you're pretty loud yourself." 

Blair grinned broadly as he rested his cheek on the top of Jim's head. 

"Shower?" he asked, licking Blair's neck. 

"Oh yeah," moaned Blair huskily. 

"I really mean _shower_." 

"And I really mean _oh yeah_." 

They started to laugh, stood up and headed downstairs for the bathroom. 

* * *

After their morning ablutions and their heroic water conservation efforts, they headed into the kitchen. Working in tandem, they put together a breakfast consisting of bacon, eggs and toasted bagels. 

"Oh, man, I'm starving," said Blair, grabbing a bagel and taking a huge bite. "Mmmm, did I already tell you that I love you?" he asked, taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

Jim smiled and kissed his lover's forehead. "Um, yeah. But I can't get enough of it." 

"Love you." 

* * *

They were cleaning up the breakfast dishes when the phone rang. Smiling at Blair's sudsy hands, Jim said, "Gee, Chief, I'll get it." 

Blair flicked some suds at the older man and quipped, "Gosh, you're all heart, man." 

Jim brushed the suds from his black sweater, muttering about payback being a bitch, then answered the phone. 

"Ellison." 

A man's voice asked, "May I speak with Blair, please?" 

"Just a moment. " He held the phone out to Blair who was wiping his hands. "For you, Oh, Great Suds King." 

Maturity being important, Blair stuck out his tongue, then took the phone. 

"This is Blair Sandburg." 

"Blair? It's Tobias." 

Grabbing Jim's sweater before he could walk away, Blair said, "Tobias? Is everything all right?" 

Hearing the name, Jim stepped in closer, one eyebrow arched in question. Blair shrugged his puzzlement. 

"I'm fine, Blair. Do you have any word yet? Any more news?" 

"I'm afraid not, Tobias. We're still working on it. But as soon as we do, I'll let you know." 

"Thank you, dear boy. Of course, that isn't the only reason I called..." 

At those words, Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes as he stepped away, but not before Blair could swat his arm. 

"What else can I do for you, Tobias?" 

"I'm almost ashamed to ask this, but would you mind coming by the library this morning? I... have to go through Judith's things this morning. I suspect there are a few items that she would, I'm sure, have liked you to have." 

"Um, Tobias, could you hold on a moment?" 

"Of course, Blair." 

Sandburg put the phone against his shoulder. "Jim, do you mind if I head to Rainier first, then meet you later at the station?" 

"No, you go. I understand. But Blair, be careful." 

"Yeah, yeah, coincidences, I know." 

He put the phone back to his ear. "Tobias, no problem. I'll be there in about thirty, okay?" 

"Thank you, Blair." 

"See you in a few, Tobias." 

He hung up and gave Jim a helpless look. 

"What could I say, Jim?" 

Ellison walked over, picked up Blair's jacket and keys and held them out, a smile on his face. 

"Go!" 

"Yeah, but the di..." 

"No buts, Chief. I'll finish the dishes. Now go, or you'll be late." 

"You seem pretty impatient to have me gone. Are you waiting for someone, James Joseph Ellison?" 

"No, I'm not, Mr. Blair Sandburg. Now, go! Move!" Jim opened the door, pushed Blair outside and closed the door behind him. 

*One... Two... Three...* counted Blair mentally. On _three_ , the door opened. 

"C'mere," said Jim, grabbing the younger man by the collar of his jacket and kissing him mindlessly. When they broke apart, Jim said breathlessly, "Be careful, Chief." 

"I knew you wouldn't be able to avoid saying it one more time." 

His answer was a swat on the butt. 

* * *

Blair walked out into the cold, bright morning, turned up the collar of his jacket, and, with a glance up and down the street, he jogged across the street, unlocked the Volvo, and climbed in. As he drove off, a shadow separated itself from the doorway of the neighboring building, glanced up at 852, then entered the lobby. 

* * *

Jim was finishing the dishes when someone knocked on the door. Smelling only a light, floral fragrance on the other side, he opened the door. 

Surprised, he said, "You? How di..." 

He never finished his question. The visitor raised a gloved hand holding a small artifact and pressed a button, sending a 220-volt jolt through the helpless sentinel. 

* * *

Blair looked at his watch... 10:45. He and Tobias had finished packing up all of Judith's belongings at the library, and, after sharing a latte with Tobias, he'd taken his leave of the unhappy man, promising to visit later in the week and to keep him in the loop. 

Now, anxious to get to Jim, he climbed into the Volvo and headed to the station. It was a short drive, but as Blair drove, he gnawed his lower lip. He was worried, but didn't understand why. He turned into the underground garage and his alarm bells went off... no truck. 

He hurried upstairs. 

"Rafe, have you seen Jim this morning?" 

"No. He hasn't shown yet. I've been here since eight. Why, something wrong?" 

"No, I'm sure not. I guess." 

Henri Brown punched him on the arm and grinning, said, "He's probably on his way, Hairboy. Or maybe he stopped by the federal court to keep Simon company?" 

"Yeah, maybe, I guess," answered Blair. He took his jacket off, hung it up, then sat at Jim's desk and immediately started bargaining with himself. He knew Jim wouldn't have gone to meet Simon without telling him, so he ended up agreeing with himself that if Jim wasn't there in thirty, Blair would call out the cavalry. 

* * *

"Hey, Sandy, you have a letter. Don't you check the mailboxes anymore?" Megan quipped as she handed over the envelope. 

Blair, puzzled, took the letter, slit it open and pulled out the paper. He was surprised to find the words to be in Spanish, simply typed but with no signature. Blair started to read it.... 

Llorando  
De cara a la pared  
Se apaga la ciudad 

Llorando  
Y no hay mas  
 **MUERO QUIZAS**  
A donde estas? 

Sonando  
De cara a la pared  
Se quema la ciudad 

Sonando  
 **SIN RESPIRAR**

Rezando  
De cara a la pared  
Se hunde la ciudad* 

It didn't take Blair long to understand the message. 

Crying  
Face to the wall  
The city goes dark 

Crying  
And there's nothing else  
 **I'M DYING MAYBE**  
Where are you? 

Dreaming  
Face to the wall  
The city burns 

Dreaming  
 **WITHOUT BREATHING**

Praying  
Face to the wall  
The city drowns 

"Oh shit! Jim!" yelled Blair horrified. He picked up the phone and dialed home. The answer machine started and Blair heard a scary, distorted voice say.... 

"Too late! You lost. Or should I say... you lost HIM! What does it feel like to be on the other side? You betrayed me! Hijo de puta! Revenge is sweet, isn't it?" 

Blair felt his heart stop and his hands started to shake, but he quickly came back to himself and hung up the phone. He stood, grabbed his jacket and yelled, "Rafe, Brown, Connor, c'mon! Jim's the next victim." 

"What?!" asked Brown stunned. 

"The letter's from the killer. I just called home and Jim's in trouble. C'mon, we gotta go to the loft." 

All four headed out, Henri and Rafe taking Rafe's car, Blair jumping into Megan's car. 

* * *

Megan hadn't even stopped the car before Blair was out and running. Rafe and Brown were on the sidewalk and immediately yelled out, "Sandburg! Wait! Don't go alone, you're unarmed!" 

Blair didn't listen, just kept going. He skidded to a stop in front of 307, and raced up the stairs, Rafe, Brown and Connor one floor down but running fast to catch up. 

The door was slightly ajar, and, with a trembling hand, knowing he was breaking every rule in the book, he pushed it open. 

The scene he walked in on froze him in his tracks. 

Jim was on his knees, face up against the far wall, blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back. He was trying to shake his head and it appeared to Blair that he was groggy. Standing next to him, pressing the muzzle of a gun against Jim's temple and smiling broadly, was the killer. 

"See, he's still alive... but not for long. I couldn't do it without you being here. I want to see your face when he dies." 

"Ma... Maya?" stammered Blair. 

"Si, mi amor." 

It was at that moment that Rafe, Brown and Connor burst into the loft, guns ready. 

"Drop your gun," yelled Rafe. 

"Now," shouted Brown. 

"Fuck you both," shouted Maya. 

"No! Maya," said Blair, taking a step forward. 

"Don't fucking come closer," she said, pressing the gun harder against Jim's temple. 

"Maya, please." 

"Please? Oh, that's sweet. Pleeeeease," said the young woman, laughing insanely. 

"Drop your weapon! I won't repeat it again," shouted Rafe for the second time. 

"No fucking way," she said, "He's going to die." 

"NO! Maya, listen to me... there's no reason to hurt Jim, I'm the one you're angry with, aren't I? Isn't that why you did all this? Weren't you leaving me a message?" 

"I wanted you to know how easy it was, Blair. You abandoned me, destroyed everything. I wanted you to understand." 

He took another step closer, hands held out in supplication. "No, Maya, you were trying to call out for help. That's what you're doing now." 

The muzzle lifted ever so slightly away from Jim's head. Blair could see that Jim was fully conscious now, his head cocked, and he knew the man was listening. 

"Please, Maya, I _am_ here to help. We can talk about this, I want to listen." He took two more steps closer, but being careful _not_ to get between the other detectives and Maya. 

"It's too late, Blair." A lone tear tracked down one cheek. "You don't know what they did. But you will pay..." 

He let his voice harden as he addressed her again. "Fine, then let _me_ pay for whatever _they_ did. I betrayed you the first time, not Jim. So kill me." 

She frowned and gave a small shake of her head. "No, no, not what I planned, not what I planned..." 

"Maya, look _at_ me. AT ME." 

It worked. The gun lifted from Jim's temple as Maya obeyed and turned toward Blair. But of course, the gun was now pointing directly at Sandburg. 

She seemed to calm suddenly as her chocolate brown eyes met Blair's blue ones. "You're right, Blair." Her finger tightened on the trigger and time stood still as Blair understood he was going to die.... 

The sound of multiple gunshots almost deafened him, but when it was quiet again, he was on the floor, Connor's body covering his. At the moment Maya tightened her finger on the trigger, Rafe and Brown had fired... Rafe hitting her in the shoulder and Henri's bullet hitting her in the side, as Connor jumped on Blair and took him down, safely out of harm's way. 

Now, he wiggled out from under Megan as she rolled to her side and both stood with Blair hurrying to Jim's side, even as Brown went to Maya and Rafe called it in. 

Trembling fingers removed Jim's blindfold as Connor helped by removing the rope around his wrists. Once he was completely free and both Megan and Blair had helped him to his feet, he gazed down at Blair, shook his head and said, "You are so in trouble." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Yadda, yadda." 

* * *

The paramedics had Maya stabilized and were preparing to wheel her out when Blair separated himself from a sore Jim to go to her side. He took her lax hand and held it gently. 

"Maya." 

Fragile lids fluttered open and brown, unseeing eyes stared up at him. "Blair?" 

"Yeah. You're going to be all right." 

She sighed and shook her head. "I'll never be all right again. They took everything from me." 

The hand slipped from his as the paramedics headed out. Blair went back to Jim. 

"You okay?" Jim asked, his fingers sliding into Blair's hair. 

"Jim, so help me. *You're* the one she tried to kill and you ask _me_ if *I'm* okay?" 

"I know damn good and well who she was aiming at, Chief. And we're going to have a serious talk about this macho protective attitude of yours." Jim's thumb gently stroked Blair's jawline. 

"I feel sorry for her, Jim. I don't know why this happened, but something set her off." 

"Yeah, I know. Is she going to be all right?" 

"The medics said nothing vital had been hit. Yeah, she's going to make it." 

Behind the two men, Rafe, Brown and Connor were cleaning up and giving the good news to Simon and as Jim cocked his head and heard Simon's spluttered, "What the fuck?", he slid an arm around Blair's waist and whispered, "don't you just hate coincidences?" 

"You putz." 

* * *

Two days later.... 

"Jim, here's the file you requested. It just came in from Chile," Rhonda announced, as she handed off a manila folder to Ellison. 

"Thanks, Rhonda." 

Jim opened the file and started reading. He was just finishing up when Blair came back from the lab, where he had been to pick up the results of some blood samples in a new case. 

"Man, I hate the morgue." 

"Chief, the lab isn't _in_ the morgue." 

"No. But you have to cross it to _get_ to the lab, and I _so_ don't like it, man." 

"Blair," whispered Jim. 

When Jim used his first name, Blair knew that it was serious. "Yeah?" he asked warily as he sat down next to his partner. 

"Rhonda gave me Maya's file from Chile." 

"She had a police record?" 

"Yes and no. She had never been arrested but she was... wanted." 

"Wanted? What on earth for, Jim? 

"Apparently she committed three murders in Chile. She had been identified by a little boy who was looking for his cat when he heard a woman yelling. He hid in a dark corner of the street and witnessed said woman shooting three men." 

"And they're sure his ID is Maya?" 

"Yeah, one hundred percent. He's one of her neighbors." 

"Shit." 

"But it's not all." 

"She committed other crimes?" 

"No. She'd been raped." 

"Raped?" 

"Yes, by the three men she murdered. The police are pretty certain that they are the same guys. The file says that when they found the bodies, the police questioned the guys' friends and some of them confessed that the men had talked when they were drunk and had said they raped her." 

"So, revenge. Something like that, Jim, would easily push her over the edge. It would push anyone over." 

"Uh, huh. The psychologist who studied the case over there in Chile said that she developed a second personality, an opposite personality." 

"Makes sense. I remember studying that in my psych classes. A person will create a second personality who will kill and protect them, but at the same time, that second personality will prevent them from feeling guilty for the crimes they commit." 

"Exactly. And the murders she committed here were both a subtle message to you and to let us know what she was capable of. They were people you both knew and people who would trust her." 

"What's going to happen to her?" 

"She'll be sent back to Chile, and hopefully... they'll be able to get her the help she needs." 

Blair glanced down at the file, at the smiling picture of Maya, and for a brief moment he remembered the young, innocent woman he'd first met. A woman untouched by her father's life or Blair's betrayal. 

"Hey, cut it out... not your fault, Chief." 

"I know. Really, I do." He lifted his face to Jim's and smiled wryly. 

"Really thought I was going to lose you there, Jim." 

"Never," said Jim, squeezing Blair's hand under the desk. He looked around... it was midday and almost everybody was out for lunch. He bent his head and dropped a soft kiss into Blair's neck. 

"Never. But we _are_ going to talk about this territorial imperative of yours." 

"Yadda, yadda, Jim." 

* * *

The End

* * *

*Lyrics from De Cara A La Pared, sung by Lhasa, in 1998 album La Llorona 


End file.
